Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

This is my second Ron/Hermione fanfic! I hope you guys love it! Please review!

Hermione sat on her bench on the balcony outside her room, looking up at the starry night sky. She was curled up on the right side of the bench, Hogwarts, A History on her lap.

She was already going on her sixth year at Hogwarts, and of course, she would have a lot more work to do, since, well, she was a sixth year. She didn't know what she would do without her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

Hermione's eyes blurred back and forth as she took in the contents of her book, which she had read more times than she could count. Well, she thought, it's just a bit of light reading... she smiled slightly to herself at the thought of Harry and Ron's faces if she had told them that.

A loud hoot echoed off her wall and a small, gray owl slammed into her railings.

"Pig!" Hermione said, dropping her book on the bench and rushing over to the little feather-duster lying on her porch. "What are you doing here?!"

Pig hooted in response and rolled over on his side, revealing a letter tied to its leg.

With a jolt of excitement, Hermione picked Pigwidgeon up in her arms and slid open her sliding door. She dropped him on her bed and untied the letter from its leg with trembling hands, her heart fluttering excitedly.

"When did Ron send you?" Hermione asked before realizing that Pig couldn't reply.

She pulled the letter from Pig's leg and ran straight to her desk.

"Dear Hermione,

Come over to the Burrow in the next week! Mum told me that Dumbledore's bringing Harry here in the next week too, so we can all stay together. Come early so we can help degnome the garden and stuff.

Be expecting you soon,

Ron"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, looking happily at the letter with half a glance at Pig. "and I'd forgotten you're so tired. I'm sorry."

She walked over to Pig and gave him a bit of water. He gulped it down noisily.

"There. And please, stay there, I need you to give Ron a reply," she said softly.

She walked over to her desk and sat down, pulling out a bit of parchment and quill and ink.

"Dear Ronald,

Okay. I'll be there at 10 tomorrow. Just wait for me.

Love,

Hermione"

She reread it a couple of times, and realized that it was short and sweet.

"I'll be seeing you again soon," she added to Pig, who was already pumped up for another long night of flight. He hooted loudly in response as Hermione tied her letter to his leg.

"Tell him I love him," she muttered quietly, stroking Pig's wing. She knew he wouldn't understand, but she just felt like saying it.

Pig spread his small wings and took off through Hermione's window. Hermione watched him until he was just a tiny speck against the moon.

She would be staying at the burrow again! she thought, her insides rejoicing.

Hermione walked back to her bed and got into her blanket, thinking hard. Finally, after all these weeks, she'd be staying with Ron! And Harry, of course, she thought guiltily. Why must she always leave him out of her thoughts?

Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes, finally drifting off to sleep.

Hermione awoke to bright rays of sunshine streaming in through her window. Today was going to be a great day, she thought to herself.

She got out of bed and tickled Crookshanks behind the ears for a moment, who was lying right next to the door.

"I'm going to the burrow!" she said, grinning at her cat. He looked back confusedly, his squashed face pouting at her. "Oh, don't look at me like that," Hermione said, starting to laugh. "I'm just so, so happy!"

She stood up and walked out of her room, knowing exactly who to go to.

Hermione walked over to the door at the very end of the landing and turned the doorknob quietly, revealing a bed, which was empty.

She shook her head and closed the door again. Her parents were awake, of course. They always wake up at this time.

What was the time? She looked at the clock on the right side of the hall, which read 9:01 A.M. She would be going to the burrow at 10.

She ran down the stairs silently and reached the kitchen, where her mom was currently cooking scrambled eggs.

"'Morning, mum," said Hermione innocently, walking over to her and hugging her.

"Good morning, darling," she replied, hugging her back and returning back to her cooking. "what made you wake up so early?"

Hermione laughed. "What do you mean early? It's 9!"

"Well, you normally wake up at around 11 on weekends," her mom said in an accusing tone. Hermione scowled and sat down on a stool in the island of her kitchen, where she had a clear view of her mom's face.

"Mum," Hermione started. "I just received an owl last night."

Hermione's mom nodded and rolled her eyes, still frying the eggs. "And?"

"And... it was from Ron," said Hermione, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Are you about to tell me that he's just asked you to come over?"

Hermione stared, open-mouthed, at her mom. "How did you know that?"

"I'm your mom, honey, and I can't think of anyone else you'd be writing to, well, except for Harry," her mom said, smiling slightly at Hermione's puzzled expression. "and I also know that whenever you tell me that Ron wrote to you, he's just asked you to come over. I know you that well, honey."

Hermione took a small intake of breath and looked down at her pajama bottoms, not wanting to catch her mom's eye. "So can I go?"

"Well, of course you can! What time are you leaving?"

"At 10... oh! How am I going to tell dad? Oh, where is dad?" Hermione asked, looking puzzled.

Her mom laughed and swung her head so that her view was directing towards the living room. "Andrew!"

Hermione's dad peeked around the living room entrance a few minutes later, looking sleepy. "Yes, dear?"

"Hermione's just asked if she could stay over at a friend's house," her mom said, rolling her eyes again.

Hermione opened her mouth to say 'Ron', but her father cut her off.

"By friend, does that mean Ron?"

Hermione stared at her parents, who were both smiling at each other. "What d'you guys talk about when I'm sleeping?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, dear," her father said. "Now, I think you really should get packing."

"Mum!" Hermione snapped, looking angrily at her mom.

"Get packing, dear," her mom said, smiling at the eggs and not catching her daughters' eye.

"Fine," Hermione said. She got off the stool and stomped angrily up the stairs.

How did her parents know about Ron? Did they suspect she and Ron were... more than friends? No, Hermione thought. How could they suspect something that isn't even true?

Well, she did think of Ron differently than how she thought of Harry... what if their suspicions were right? What if she and Ron... were more than friends?

Hermione slid a hand over her eyes and pushed open the door of her room. No, she thought to herself. Even though she thought of Ron that way, he never did. What hurt most was that he never would.

Hermione bent down to gather up her stuff she would be needing for her sixth year at Hogwarts. Thinking that she and the Weasleys would be shopping in Diagon Alley together next week, she decided to only pack a few old robes and her old trainers, placing them neatly inside her trunk.

"Hmm," she said to herself as she stared at her bookshelf, straightening up. Would she need this many books?

Yes, of course!

She walked over to her bookshelf and began taking down all of her books, knowing that she would be needing all of them this year. N.E.W.T.S. were coming up soon, and she would definitely need to study alot more than she did for her .S.

O.W.L.S.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Later this month, she would be receiving her O.W.L. results! Oh no, she thought to herself. What if I fail everything!? What if I mixed up all the answers? What if I answered the questions in Ancient Runes with Transfiguration answers? She shook her head in disgust at herself and began placing her books inside her trunk, readying herself.

She chanced a glance at the clock to find out that it was already 9:45 A.M.

Jumping as if she had received an electric shock, Hermione closed her trunk and bent down to croon Crookshanks out of under her bed.

"Come on, Crookshanks," she whispered, looking directly into a pair of bright yellow eyes in the darkness. "we're going to the burrow. You can play with their chickens and gnomes and everything!"

Crookshanks merely stared at her, his eyes diagonal. Hermione could tell he was cocking his head in confusion.

"Come on, Crookshanks!" Hermione repeated. "Let's go!"

Crookshanks trotted out from under the bed and into his cage, looking sleepy, curling up against the bars of his cage and closing his eyes.

"Thanks," Hermione muttered, reaching in through the bars and scratching Crookshanks behind the ears for a moment. She stood up and gripped the handle of her trunk and her cat's cage, then, realizing that she was all ready to go, walked out into the hallway.

She walked down the stairs slowly due to the heaviness of her trunk and reached the kitchen in a few minutes time, watching her mom and dad conversing quietly on the stools, eating breakfast.

"I'm ready," Hermione said, clearing her throat to acknowledge her presence.

Her parents turned around and grinned at her.

"Okay then, so how are you getting there?" her mom asked, eyeing her carefully as she walked over to hug her.

"Floo Powder, the fire, I mean," Hermione said, letting go of her mom and giving her dad a squeeze.

"Take care, honey," her dad said, kissing her forehead and stepping back.

"Oh, I'm sure she will," her mom said teasingly. "because if she doesn't, Ron will have to do it for her."

Hermione glared at her parents but rearranged her face into a little smile. "Well, bye!"

She dragged her trunk over to the fireplace and walked into it along with Crookshanks' cage.

Grabbing a bunch of green powder inside the flowerpot on the mantelpiece, Hermione threw it into the fireplace and immediately a bunch of green flames errupted around her. She made her to tuck her elbows in so that she wouldn't get hurt, but still, the banging of Crookshanks' cage against her knee was hurting her badly.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it any longer, she toppled onto an old rug, inhaling the scent of the burrow.

She was home.